If I gave you forever
by IM1LuckyWoman
Summary: Finding the real thing isn't easy…especially when the memory of a bad relationship holds you hostage. Can Bella let go and trust again? Can she have the forever kind of love?


_**A/N This was written as a one-shot for the No Kid Hungry fundraising compilation. This was my 'donation'. I was very pleased to be asked to contribute. It's now alright to share it with you here! :)  
**_

_**I won't be adding to this one. It is complete as it is. Hope you enjoy and take a minute to post a review. Thanks! **_

* * *

So my therapist says the best way to get it all out is to write everything down in a "journal". A journal. I mean, sure I'd had a diary before…when I was in the sixth grade.

It was full of things like:

_**Dear Diary, Today I wore my new pleated skirt and the soft new sweater I got for my birthday. Carla said I looked pretty. Roger didn't seem to notice…still.**_

Or…a momentous one that I couldn't forget if I tried:

_**Dear Diary, Today Jimmy S. walked by my desk and touched my shoulder long enough to feel and tug on my bra strap! Then he said "Yep, she's wearing one." OMG!**_

(There _have _to have been three exclamation points on that entry. I'm sure of it.)

But I've never kept a real journal before, so this will all be new to me and I'm not sure how much value there will be to it. I guess I have to trust her. She says this is "homework".

Great. I'm back in school. I wonder what grade you have to be in to be this fucked up.

I'm still confused a bit about how to actually start this. I guess I have the "Where do I begin?" syndrome. How much to say? What to include? Will any of it really make a fucking difference?

(I guess it's okay to say 'fuck' in my journal, right? I mean, it is MY journal, after all. I guess I can do whatever I fucking want to do. I never used to swear though. It's another legacy he left me.)

So…what's that old saying? "Begin at the beginning"? Okay. The beginning it is…

* * *

_Dear Diary, _

_The beginning started five years ago. I was twenty-three and he was twenty-five. We met through mutual friends…the clichéd "blind date scenario", except that we were both happy about the person with whom we'd been set up. We 'clicked'. Our first date, dinner and a movie, while not very original, was easy and fun and when he said he'd call, I believed him…and he did...the very next day._

_It didn't take long for life to revolve around finding free time to be together. We wanted to be together. It was new and exciting and romantic. The sex was…decent. I fell in love. I remember seeing the way my mother looked at my father and I knew that I was looking at him that same way. I felt that same thing. I was sure we could __**have**__ that same thing. _

_I even tried a sweet 'game' with him that I'd grown up hearing my parents play. They called it "If I gave you forever…" and it never failed to reassure me that the love they had for each other was an eternal thing. _

_There was no particular time for the phrase to pop up. That's what was fun about it. It could happen when you least expected it; whoever felt like saying it just did. _

_As I got older, I realized it was more than a game for them. That was never more apparent than when the phrase was spoken after they'd had a disagreement with each other. It was how they seemed to finally let things go and get back on track…because no matter who stopped the argument long enough to say "If I gave you forever…", the one who was responding always came back with the only answer there every was, "I'd share it with you." _

_That's all for today, DEAR Diary. I am fucking crying now. I hope you're happy._

* * *

_Dear Diary,_

_Continuing. __**Without **__tears this time, I'm hoping. _

_It's so strange to think that the memory of him and the time we spent together can still make me cry after all this time. Together for three years, but apart now for two, and I still can't fucking "get over it", as I've been told to do. _

_Of course, the therapist (should I call her 'Doc' here, as I do when I see her?), says one doesn't necessarily "get over" something so intense and something that was such a big part of a life. We "work through it" so that we can "move beyond it". That's what writing here is supposed to do. It's supposed to help me work through it. _

_And I do want to do that. You have no idea how I want to do that. If I __**don't**__ do that, I stand to ruin what could be the real thing…the forever thing…this time. I can't let that happen. I don't know what I'll do if that happens. But how can I trust again? I've still not been able to say the words to __**him**__…because I am terrified of the response._

_So…to get on with it. _

_The "blind date" was Mike. The three year exercise in trying to please someone else while losing more and more of myself was Mike. The man I thought was my forever and who I seem unable to completely exorcise from my present…was Mike. _

_Like I said at the beginning, we seemed to 'click' and all was well…for awhile. I can't really put my finger on when it changed…on when the 'honeymoon' phase turned into the 'trying to keep him happy' phase. Maybe it was after I first was confident enough to say __**the**__ phrase…confident enough to think I was sure of him…only to be puzzled and hurt and confused at his answer._

_I remember that first time…clearly. How can one forget a first "anniversary"?_

_We'd been dating a year. I thought maybe we would go out for a special dinner, but Mike had said he didn't want to do that. He hated the noise of crowded restaurants, and the expense and so he just wanted to stay in for dinner. He'd come over to my place. _

_I remember trying to be understanding about that. I was a good cook. He liked my cooking. A nice romantic dinner alone would be nice. I'd plan something simple but elegant so I wasn't all worn out from cooking a nice meal after work. It was all good._

_And it really did seem to be…well…mostly good…until after dinner. We'd eaten our lovely meal and gone into the small, cozy living room of my second floor apartment. I'd lit candles that were still flickering softly as they lent their warm light to the room. We sat beside one another on the overstuffed sofa and I started to snuggle in…just as Mike reached for the remote to the television._

_How is it that I remember his look of annoyance when I asked him to leave the television off…to maybe just talk with me? How is it I remember…not word for word, but close…our conversation after all this time? How did I believe him…then and for two more years after that? _

_When had I become so fucking stupid?_

_Enough for now…enough._

* * *

_Okay, Dear Diary, I'm back. _

_I almost threw you out the window after that last entry. Too many memories…not good memories, I'm sure you know…came flooding back. Ugh! I wish I could wipe my "memory bank" of those three years. No such luck._

_Anyway, that night…the first anniversary night…the conversation…_

_At first, I'd just snuggled in…or, at least, I'd tried too. Mike's arm around me was tense and stiff and not very snuggly. I stretched up to kiss him. It was me kissing him at first…but then, finally…he kissed me back…and before I knew it, he was standing and taking my hand and we were in the bedroom._

_I'd lit candles in there too and the room was bathed in a soft glow and I was looking forward to romantic, slow lovemaking…the kind of lovemaking that would be special enough for a night like this._

_What I got was quick, almost emotionless "slam, bam, thank you, ma'am" sex. _

_He unzipped his pants and pulled out his dick and pushed up my skirt and pulled off my panties and seeing that I wasn't really ready yet, he made me wet with his saliva and then pushed me onto the bed, pushed himself into me and started moving like a machine. There was no kissing and after a few minutes, when I said "I love you" into his ear, hoping to elicit a like response, instead I got a grunt of sexual release…his. _

_He pulled out, and went into the bathroom, holding up his pants with one hand so he wouldn't trip over them. He came out with a towel, cleaning himself off…and then he tossed it at me where I still lay on the bed, skirt rucked up around my hips. _

_I remember thinking…'What the __**heck**__ just happened?' (I didn't really swear in those days, Diary. That came later. ) I didn't feel raped, exactly…of course I didn't feel that…but I did feel…used. I remember thinking… 'It must just be me. I'm sure he thinks that was really hot and sexy. I wonder if he wonders why it didn't happen for __**me**__.'_

_I was using the towel and not looking at him when I heard him zip up. He came over to the bed, leaned down and gave me a quick peck on the cheek and said "That was great, Bells. I'm gonna turn the game on now." Then he patted that same cheek and walked out. I was still there when I heard the noise of the television coming from the other room._

_I was a fucking idiot, Diary, because I walked out into the living room after I cleaned myself up and put on fresh panties and I sat down beside him on the sofa and we watched the game. Well, I can't actually say I 'watched' the game…more like there were moving images passing across my vision while my eyes were open. They didn't really register…but still I sat there._

_It was when the game was over and Mike stood to leave that I made the mistake for the first (but not, I'm mortified to admit, the last) time. He was almost to the door when I grabbed his hand and said the words, the words that meant so much to me. I think the conversation went something like this:_

"_Mike…if I gave you forever…" and I looked at him and waited._

"_What?"_

"_If I gave you forever…?" I tried again._

"_What are you talking about, Bella?"_

"_Well, I…we've been seeing each other for a whole year now and…I love you…and I'm just saying… 'If I gave you forever…?'"_

"_No such thing as forever, Bells. God…what a concept. Borrrrring. But, hey…we're having a good time, huh? I'm not going anywhere. A whole year? Wow! Gotta go. I'll call you." And he was out the door and gone._

_I think this is getting a little easier, Diary. Writing this down is clarifying JUST how much of a PRICK he was…and way earlier in our relationship than I was willing to admit. _

_You might be a good idea after all. _

_I didn't cry this time. Well…not __**sobbing**__ crying anyway. That's progress, right?_

* * *

_Dear Diary,_

_There's really no point in writing down __**every **__little detail of the next two years of our "relationship". Believe me. I know that I'm supposed to be utilizing you as another form of therapy…but I can't remember __**every**__ detail anyway…even if I wanted to. And I don't want to._

_Suffice it to say that there were ups and downs, some good times and bad. It was when the "downs" and the "bad" started overtaking the "ups" and the "good" that I started being more and more miserable…and yet I hung in there. _

_I do remember thinking that the reason I was hanging in there was that relationships take work…and are worth fighting for…and shouldn't be casually tossed away. I had my parent's long and stable marriage as a role model. It was what I wanted. It was what I was working so hard to have. At the time, it was what I thought I deserved._

_What I didn't take into account was that a relationship of the kind I wanted isn't attainable, or __**sustainable, **__when only one of the two people in it gives a flying fuck. _

_Sorry, Diary…Those little bursts of bitterness just come unbidden sometimes. Can't seem to help myself._

_Anyway…to make a two year long story shorter…more and more of the time we spent together became less and less satisfying. From the first year mark of our dating to the second, the relationship between Mike and me seemed to consist ever more frequently as a replay of that first anniversary night. _

_We went out less and less. Mike still came over. We still had sex. It was rarely fulfilling for me, but I kept telling myself that that was normal. Nobody kept that same level of intimacy, that first "bloom" of passion, going forever…right? Of course, right. I just hadn't known it was going to end so soon. I missed it._

_It was the third year that was the hardest…because I was constantly worried that Mike and I weren't going to make it. I still tried…but nothing seemed to have the result I hoped for. Special meals I made for us to share sat cold and congealing because he failed to show up. The sex that had become, at best, lackluster on both our parts, became almost non-existent. Arguments seemed to magically appear out of thin air, straining our already tenuous connection. _

_And still, Dear Diary, I was like a dog with a favorite bone…I couldn't and __**wouldn't **__give up without a fight. I said the words…__**those **__words…four more times in those two years, on occasions that seemed like maybe things __**were **__okay…or at least not so __**not **__okay. I always got a variation of the same response I'd gotten the first time…except for the __**last **__time. That time, I'd only said the first three words before I heard the response that put me where I am now._

"_Mike?" I'd said…thinking I might have his attention as he'd just turned off the game and was getting ready to leave (we never had gotten to the living together stage…which I guess was a blessing in disguise)._

"_Hmmmm…", he muttered absently as he lifted his jacket from the end of the sofa…his back to me._

"_If I gave…"_

_That was all I managed before he whipped around to face me, a look of such distaste on his face that I took a step backward and swallowed the remaining words in one choking gulp._

"_Jesus…__**fucking**__…Christ, Bella. Again? Stop. Just stop." He paused…the look never leaving his face. "You know what? You __**can't **__stop, can you? You have to bring that up __**all **__the fucking time." (I'd brought it up a total of five times.) "I'm done. I've been done." _

_There were more words, words that were spit and spewed at me. I was so in shock at his tone and at the intensity with which his words were thrown at me that I don't remember much more of what he said…but there was more. It was like he'd had all this pent up inside and now it was released in a flood. I do remember his last sentences though._

"_See…there's no such thing as forever. I told you so. There's no such thing." _

_His final words were punctuated by the slamming of the door._

_And that…was that. Well…except for the last two years of insecurity and my apparent inability to trust a man again. He did leave me with that._

_You know, Diary, maybe this was a good idea. I've managed to put all that down with only minimal tears…and what's especially good is that they're tears of anger…not despair. Anger is better._

* * *

_Dear Diary, _

_The first year after "The Humiliation" was more difficult than I like to remember. The relationship with Mike had been hard; the __**non-relationship **__phase wasn't much easier. _

_Being alone…was lonely…but I couldn't stand the thought of what might happen if I let someone in. I was afraid now that, for me, maybe there was no forever. I was pretty sure I didn't want to put it to the test. _

_I managed to rebuff the few attempts made by well meaning friends to "hook me up" with one "really great guy" or another. I didn't want to date. I didn't want to even __**look **__at another guy._

_Until I met __**him**__. His name is Edward._

_I should probably fill you in on this past year, Dear Diary. _

_I met him on my own…not as a result of anyone setting something up for me. I was pleased about that. I didn't want anything about Edward to remind me of Mike…and so far, nothing has. _

_I'd found myself filling the empty hours of my self-imposed solitude and celibacy that first year with lots and lots of reading. Reading filled long, lonely hours. _

_I had caught up on all the best sellers that appealed to me…and I wanted something more. It was that search that led me to a new, small bookstore in the neighborhood. _

_In this day and age of e-readers, it was amazing to me that someone would open a real "brick and mortar" bookstore, but I was determined to support such optimism…and so I wandered in one rainy Saturday afternoon. _

_A tinkling bell announced my arrival…an old fashioned, honest to goodness, real brass bell. Quaint. Right next to the front door was a coat rack, the kind you might find in an old Victorian house. Beside it was an umbrella stand, temporary home to a few damp residents. Mine joined them…and my jacket found a spot on one of the curlicues sprouting from the central pole of the rack. I felt like I had stepped back in time…and I liked it. _

_I'd stowed my rain gear and shaken off a few stray drops clinging to my hair when I heard a masculine voice say,_

"_Hello there. Thanks for braving the weather." _

_My eyes searched for the source…and landed on him as he came walking toward me. It wasn't his looks, at least not __**only**__ his looks, that made me stare, though he __**was**__ strikingly handsome; it was his eyes. His eyes were smiling._

_That first time, when Edward greeted me and then asked if he could show me around his shop, was like no first time meeting someone had ever been before. I know it sounds cliché, Dear Diary, but it was like I'd known him for ages…it was that comfortable; it was strange for someone who had spent the last year building a barrier around herself. _

_I stayed in the store, drinking the cups of coffee Edward had poured for me, for three hours that first time. He was attentive and helpful and I walked out with half a dozen carefully chosen volumes and a business card bearing the name and number of the shop. _

_On the back of the card, he'd written his name and the number for his cell. I'd hesitated a bit when he'd asked for mine…and was glad he was sensitive enough not to press. (I said I felt I'd known him for ages…but there was still that caution since I wasn't sure I could actually trust that feeling, Diary. Baby steps.) _

_I did call him after about a week…a week during which he was in my thoughts almost constantly. We had talked about a great many things in the three hours I was there and I knew I wanted to talk about a great many more with him. _

_It was another month before I gave him my number and a month after that before we set up a "date". From that first date, we rarely let a day go by without talking on the phone and we began seeing each other often. Our relationship has grown and deepened and still…even after a year, I find myself holding back…unable to say the words I so want to say._

_I love him, Diary. I have fallen in love with him…and I'm terrified because I want it to be a forever love, but..._

_I think I'm going to ruin this. I'm going to lose him. _

_He says he loves me. I know I love him…but if I say __**the**__ phrase, there's no turning back. _

_What do I do now?_

* * *

_Dear Diary,_

_I'm on my way to meet Edward at the shop. He said he has to work late but wants me to come by for a quick dinner. I'm thinking sandwiches and chips. _

_I've almost decided to just blurt out the words. I have to know, one way or the other, whether there might be a future for us. I think I may do it tonight. Maybe. I hope. _

* * *

_Dear Diary,_

_Edward and I didn't have sandwiches and chips for dinner last night. We had bread and cheese, apple slices and grapes, and wine. He had made a picnic for us…on a blanket on the floor. It was sweet. He does things like that…unexpected little things that make me melt inside. _

_I was trying to enjoy myself, all the while thinking about the words…and whether I could do it…wondering if I was strong enough now to do it. Wondering what would happen if I did. Wondering what would happen if I __**didn't**__. _

_We finished our meal and cleaned up. I was going to settle into one of the overstuffed chairs and read while he caught up on some paperwork. But I knew I wouldn't absorb a single sentence of my book. There was no point in settling in. It was now or never. _

_I caught his hand just as he was about to enter his office. He turned and faced me, a slightly puzzled look on his face._

_There was no point in delaying any longer. _

"_Edward?"_

"_What is it, Bella?" his fingers entwined themselves with mine. "Is something wrong?"_

"_Can I ask you something?"_

_His look turned serious, matching the tone of my voice._

"_Anything." _

_I tried taking a deep breath, but it felt like there was no air in the room. I didn't know if I could do it…and then, I heard the words as I forced them from my mouth._

"_If I gave you forever…" and I waited. The silence was, as they say, deafening. My heart was sinking to the floor when I found the strength to look up at his face, sure of what I would see there. I will never forget the look in his eyes. He looked…so serious. _

_His eyes were boring into mine. I couldn't swallow and I couldn't breathe. And then he spoke._

"_I'd share it with you."_

_At first, I wasn't sure I'd heard him right. I stood there silently for a moment. He was quiet too._

"_You'd…?"_

"_Share it…with you. It's all I want, Bella. I've just been waiting for you to be ready. Are you sure?"_

_I nodded. I'd never been more sure of anything in my life. _

_He folded me into his embrace and I knew I would be happy there…forever._

* * *

_Dear Diary,_

_This will be my last entry. I won't be needing you anymore. Thanks for everything. _


End file.
